Brain. Why, you may ha' my master's gelding, to save your longing, sir.

Step. But, I ha' no boots, that's the spite on't.

Broin. Why, a fine whisp of hay, roll'd hard, master Stepben.

Step. No, faith, it's no boot to follow him now; let him e'en go and hang. Pr'ythee, help to truss me a little. He does so vex me

Brain. You'll be worse vex'd, when you are truss'd, master Stephen. But keep unbraced, and walk yourself till you be coid, your choler may founder you else.

Step. By my faith, and so I will, now thou tel'st me on't. How dost thou like my leg, Brain-worm?

Brain. A very good leg, mas er Stephen; but the woollen stocking does not commend it so well.

Step. Foh, the stockings be good euough, now Summer is coming on, for the dust: I'll have a pair of silk against Winter, that I go to dwell i' the town. I think my leg

would shew in a silk hose.

Brain. Believe me, master Stephen, rarely well.

Step. In sadness, I think it would; I have a reasonable good leg.

Brain. You have an excellent good leg, master Stephen, but I cannot stay to praise it longer now; 1 am very sor ry for't.

Step. Another time will serve, Brain-worm. cy, for this.

E Kno. Ha, ha, ha!

[Exit. Gramer

Step. 'Slid! I hope he laughs not at me, an he' doE Kno Here was a letter, indeed, to be intercepted by a man's father! He cannot but think mest virtuously both of me and the sender, sure, that make the careful costermonger of him in our Familiar Epistles. I wish I knew the end of it, which now is doubtful, and threatens

What! my wise cousin! Nay, then I'll furnish our feast with one gull more tow'rd the mess. He writes to me of a brace, and here's one, that's three: O, for a fourth. Fortune! if ever thou'lt use thine eyes, I intreat thee

Step. O, now I see who he laughs at. He laughs at somebody in a letter. By this good light, an' he had laught

at me

E Kno. How now, cousin Stephen, melancholy?

G6

Step.

6 Vol. 1

Step. Yes, a little. I thought you had laught at me,

cousin.

E Kno. Why, what an' I had, coz; what would you ha'

done?

Step. By this light, I would ha' told mine uncle.

E Kno. Nay, if you would ha' told your uncle, I did laugh at you, coz.

Step. Did you indeed?

E Kno. Yes indeed?
Step. Why, then-

E Kno. What then?

Step. I am satisfied, it is sufficient.

E Kno. Why, be so, gentle coz. And I pray you, let me intreat a courtesy of you. I am sent for, this morning, by a friend i' the Old Jewry, to come to him: it's but crossing over the fields to More-gate: will you bear me company? I protest, it is not to draw you into bond, or any plot against the state, coz.

Step. Sir, that's all one, an' 'twere; you shall command me, twice so far as More-gate, to do you good in such a matter. Do you think I would leave you? I protest

E Kno. No, no, you shall not protest, coz.

Step. By my fackins, but I will, by your leave; I'll protest more to my friend than I'll speak of at this time. E Kno. You speak very well, coz.

Step. Nay, not so, neither, you shall pardon me: but I speak to serve my turn.

E Kno. Your turn, coz? do you know what you say ? A gentleman of your sort, parts, carriage, and estimation, to talk o' your turn i' this company, and to me, alone, like a water-bearer at the conduit! fie. A wight, that (hitherto) his every step hath left the stamp of a great foot behind him, at every word the savour of a strong spirit! and he! this man! so graced, so gilded, or (as I may say) so tinfoyl'd by natureCome, come, wrong not the quality of your desert, with looking downward, coz; but hold up your head, so; and let the idea of what you are, be portray'd i' your face, that men may read i' your physiognomy: Here, within this place, is to be seen the true, rare, and accomplished monster, or miracle of nature, which is all one. What think you of this, coz?

Step. Why, I do not think of it; and I will be more proud,

proud, and melancholy, and gentleman-like, than I have been, I'll assure you.

E Kno. Why, that's resolute, master Stephen! Now, if I can but hold him up to his height, as it is happily begun, it will do well for a suburb-humour: we may hap have a match with the city, and play him for forty pound. Come

coz.

Step. I'll follow you.

E Kno. Follow me? You must go before.

Step. Nay, an' I must, I will. Pray you, shew me, good

cousin.

SCENE. III.

The Street before COBB's House.

Enter Mr Matthew.

Mat. I think this be the house: what, hoa!

Enter COBB from the House.

[Exeunt

Cob. Who's there. O, master Matthew! gi' your worship good-morrow.

Mat. What! Cob! how dost thou, good Cob? dost thou inhabit here, Cob?

Cob. Ay, sir; I and my lineage, ha' kept a poor house there in our days.

Mat. Cob, canst thou shew me a gentleman, one captain Bobadil, where his lodging is?

Cob. O, my guest, sir? you mean?

Mat. Thy guest! alas! ha, ha.

Cob. Why do you laugh, sir? Do you not mean captain Bobadil?

Mat. Cob, 'pray thee, advise thyself well: do not wrong the gentleman and thyself too. I dare be sworn he scorns thy house; he! he lodge in such a base, obscure place as thy house! Tut, I know his disposition so well, he would not lie in thy bed, if thou'ldst gi' it him.

Cob. I will not give him, though, sir. Mass, I thought somewhat was in't we could not get him to bed, all night! well, sir, though he lie not o' my bed, he lies o' my bench: an't please you to go up, sir, you shall find him with two cushions under his head and his cloke wrapped about him,

as

as though he had neither won nor lost; and yet (I warrant) he ne'er cast better in his life, than he has done, to-night. Mat. Why? was he drunk?

Cob. Drunk, sir? You hear me not say so. Perhaps he swallowed a tavern-token, or some such device, Sir; I have nothing to do withal. I deal with water, and not with wine. Gi' me my bucket there, hoa. God b' w' you, sir, it's six o'clock: I should ha' carried two turns by this What hoa? my stopple? come.

Mat. Lie in a water-bearer's house! a gentleman of his havings! well, I'll tell him my mind.

Cob. What Tib, shew this gentleman up to the captain. [Tib shews Mr Mat into the House. You wou'd ha, some now, wou'd take this Mr Matthew to be a gentleman at the least. His father is an honest man, a worshipful fishmonger, and so forth; and now does he creep, and wriggle into acquaintance with all the brave gallants about the town, such as my guest is: O, my guest is a fine man! he does swear the legiblest, of any man christened by St George, the foot of Pharaoh, the body of me,- -as I am a gentleman,-and a soldier; such dainty oaths and withal, he does take this same filthy roguish Tobacco, the finest and cleanliest! it would do a man good to see the fume come forth out at's tonnels! Well, he owes me forty shillings (my wife hent him out of her purse by sixpence a time) besides his lodging; I would I had it. I shall ha' it, he says, the next action. Helter, shelter, hang sorrow, care'll kill a cat, up-tails all, and a louse for the hangman.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

A Room in COBB's House.

BOBADIL discover'd upon a Bench. Tis enters to him.

Bob. Hostess, hostess.

Tib. What say you, sir?

Bob. A cup o' thy small-bear, sweet hostess.

Tib. Sir, there's a gentleman below, would speak with

you.

Bob. A gentleman! 'ods so, I am not within.

Tib. My husband told him you were, sir.
Bob. What a plague—what meant he?
Mat. [witbin.] Captain Bobadil!

Bob. Who's there? (take away the bason, good hostess) come up, sir.

Tib. He would desire you to come up, Sir. You come into a cleanly house here.

Enter Mr MATTHEW.

Mat. 'Save you, sir; 'save you, captain.

Bob. Gentle master Matthew! is it you, sir? Please you sit down.

Mat. Thank you, good captain; you may see I am somewhat audacious.

Bob Not so, sir. I was requested to supper, last night, by a sort of gallants, where you were wish'd for, and drank to, I assure you.

Mat. Vouchsafe me by whom, good captain.

Bob. Marry, by young Well-bred, and others: why, hostess, a stool for this gentleman.

Mat. No haste, sir, 'tis very well.

Bob. Body of me! it was so late ere we parted last night, I can scarce open my eyes yet: I was but new risen, as you came: how passes the day abroad, sir? you can tell.

Mat. Faith some half-hour to seven: now, trust me, you have an exceeding fine lodging here, very neat, and private. Bob. Ay, sir: sit down, I pray you, master Matthew, (in any case) possess no gentleman of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging.

Mat. Who? I sir? no.

Bob. Not that I need to care who know it, for the cabbin is convenient, but in regard I would not be too popular and generally visited, as some are.

Mut. True, captain, I conceive you.

Bob. For, do you see, sir, by the heart of valour in me, except it be to some peculiar and choice spirits, to whom ĺ am extraordinarily engaged, (as yourself, or so) I could not extend thus far.

Mat. O Lord, sir I resolve so.

[Pulls out a paper and reads. Bob. I confess, I love a cleanly and quiet privacy, above all the tumult and roar of fortune, What new piece ha' you there? Read it.

Mat.